


Who is the lamb and who is the knife?

by inquisitor_acorn (acornchild)



Series: dark!inquisitor AU (not to be confused with inquisitor after dark AU) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Minor Character Death, OR IS HE, Revenge, Torture, dark!Inquisitor, implied major character death, it's like angst wip wednesday, pain and general awfulness, suffering monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acornchild/pseuds/inquisitor_acorn
Summary: "On a clear night such as this, it was very easy to mistake silence for peace.But this was a night of war, and some wars are better waged in silence."OrIn this universe, Dorian dies and his loved ones seek revenge.
Series: dark!inquisitor AU (not to be confused with inquisitor after dark AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046263
Kudos: 3





	Who is the lamb and who is the knife?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @ellie-effie for the prompt!

On a clear night such as this, it was very easy to mistake silence for peace.

But this was a night of war, and some wars are better waged in silence.

The Inquisitor stood waiting in front of the Tilani residence, while their guest was helped out of the carriage by one of his slaves.

Once Magister Damarlis settled on solid ground, he straightened up and greeted the Inquisitor with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Lord Inquisitor! It really has been too long. How odd for a busy man such as yourself to summon me at this time. To what do I owe the honour?"

The Inquisitor smiled his cordial smile, crinkles forming near his eyes. _The honour, is it._

"Magister Damarlis. Surely a glass of wine is due before we talk business. Or at least some shelter from the chill. I trust your journey was peaceful?", he said and turned towards the entrance.

The magister's grin continued, unflinching. "Ah why, of course! The Tilani residence is a choice place for an evening stroll. And I would not refuse some wine, if you would be so generous."

The Inquisitor curled his hand behind his back and nodded politely for the magister to follow him.

The magister hummed to himself thoughtfully, as if noticing something amusing. That hum was such a familiar tune to the Inquisitor he had to fight to keep the pleased smile off his face, to simmer the anticipation down beneath his skin.

As soon as they entered, Magister Damarlis peeled off his coat and gave it to his slave. None of the Tilani servants were around.

"Allow me," offered the Inquisitor, extending a hand towards the coat. "I'll only be a moment."

He ignored the magister's smugness hidden behind the mask of shock. "Inquisitor! I understand servants are rare to come by in the South?”

"Their duties are over for the evening. I'll be back shortly," he said, then took the coat and left.

Magister Damarlis cocked and eyebrow and looked over to the slave accompanying him, thinking himself out of earshot. "Pfft! How docile. No better than a servant. Doesn't even have his puppet hand. To think the entire Magisterium once feared this man."

The servant only looked to the floor and nodded.

"Now, let us resume our proper duties," said the magister, seeing the Inquisitor approach. "I expect Magister Tilani will be joining us?"

"She is attending to an important matter at the moment, but she will be joining us shortly."

The magister grumbled something under his breath, but followed nonetheless. The Inquisitor counted the magister's steps, breathing carefully on their rhythm. He lead them to a room with a desk, and motioned for the magister to sit down. When he did, he poured both of them some wine from a crystal pitcher.

Magister Damarlis smiled disdainfully at his cup, "And where is this beautiful vintage from, my lord? A Ferelden specialty?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I must disappoint you. It’s Tevinter wine. I’ve developed somewhat of a preference."

The magister laughed and waited. And so, the Inquisitor made a toast.

"To your health, magister," he said, and gulped half the cup in one go. It wouldn't be long now.

"I must confess, Inquisitor, I'd half expect this cup to be poisoned, if it wouldn't make for such a sloppy attempt," said the magister and set his wine down on the tray.

"I shall have to disappoint you again, magister. Poisons are not exactly my speciality," said the Inquisitor, lightly as if talking about the weather, but his hand fidgeted on his cup.

"What is this about?", Magister Damarlis's tone was dangerously low, "Out with it! What do you wish to discuss?"

This was enough. The Inquisitor’s smile dissipated on a sigh of relief, and he sagged some of his weight on the arm leaning on the table. He infused each syllable with quiet rage.

"Nothing."

As soon as he said it, he saw the colour drain from the man's face. The Inquisitor felt his hair rising on his back as the magister's magic worked up to a tide, close to bursting, and then - evaporated.

"What is the meaning of this?!", he shouted.

As the magister's eyes widened in panic, the Inquisitor felt his own stare lock onto him, wide and manic and icy. It took the magister a moment to notice the glyph, glowing bright from under his chair. From under his desk, the Inquisitor pushed a pedal. Suddenly, the air filled with pained screaming as the curved blades shot from the armrests through the magister's hands.

"GAH!! Marcus!! MARCUS!!", the magister cried for help, but no answer came.

He struggled, hitting the desk with his knees, spilling the wine over his golden robes. The wine hissed and turned to steam as it touched the glyph underneath.

The Inquisitor knew the struggle would be of no use. As the magister tried to regain his breath, Maevaris entered through the door. "Good evening, Damarlis! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting," she said conversationally, as she crossed the room to the Inquisitor's side.

The man's fingers twitched on the armrests as he tried and failed time and again to call upon his magic.

"I'll tell you all about the others! I'll tell you everything I know if you release me!"

"Oh, poor thing," said Maevaris with what could almost pass as genuine pity, "he thinks we don't know."

The Inquisitor finally rose from the desk, a dagger shining and steady in his hand.

"Please don't do this!", he tried one last time, just as the glyph started to fade.

"No need to worry, magister," said the Inquisitor coldly, "I've been practicing."

With a swift move, the blade cut through his throat and came back again at the Inquisitor's hip. The blood and the wine mixed on the magister's golden robes as he ceased moving.

The Inquisitor dropped the dagger and moved his hand to the golden chain around the magister's neck, relieving him of the weight. He traced his finger across the golden amulet of House Damarlis, wiping off the blood.

Maevaris put a gentle hand on his arm. "Alright?"

The Inquisitor looked at her sadly and nodded.

She gathered her robes and pulled him along out of the room, minding the puddle of blood. "I'll send someone to clean this up."

**Author's Note:**

> I believe I have sufficiently worked the angst out of my system for the time being. 
> 
> Marcus is fine btw, he's under new management.


End file.
